


Knowing Better

by foxy_mulder



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Because all i write is misunderstandings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Mind Reading, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Pining, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25238539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxy_mulder/pseuds/foxy_mulder
Summary: When Geralt is cursed to hear peoples thoughts, he's fairly sure reading Jaskiers mind will be essentially like talking to him. After all, Jaskier constantly blurts out whatever comes into his head with no filter.Jaskier doesn't keepsecrets.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 107
Kudos: 683
Collections: The Witcher





	1. Chapter 1

The sun beats down in the square as Geralt deflects hit after hit from the warlock. 

It's a simple enough contract, in theory. Geralt is supposed to kill him somewhere secluded, and bring back his head. But, as fate would have it, here they are facing off in the center of town. 

Townspeople cower beside toppled carts as Geralt and the warlock cast violently about the space. Geralt hates this. Now, instead of directing his focus on taking the warlock down, he has to watch out for these fucking unarmed villagers and their carts. He sighs, dodging a spell. They'll twist it into his fault, somehow- say he led the warlock here on purpose to slaughter them. Wonderful. Yet another place he can never show his face again, once this is over. 

A spell hits him directly in the chest, and he swings wide before succumbing to the dusty ground. 

He has swung true. The warlocks head slides from his body and he falls with a sickening thud, rolling to rest several feet away. 

Geralt gingerly touches the scorched area on his chest where the spell hit. He doesn't feel any different. Perhaps the warlock had miscast. Maybe Geralt can collect his fee without setbacks, and be on his way before the rumors and accusations fly, and he's run out with pitchforks. He breathes in relief, reaching out to grab the head. 

And then the voices start. 

_-think he's doing, killing someone in the middle of the square? This is why we shouldn't allow-_

_-seen a spectacle like this in ages-_

He glances up, shaken. Townspeople walk carefully around the bloodied ground, staring openly in fear as they right their carts. And their voices- their thoughts- flow into him, a hundred cold snatches he can't quite grasp the thread of- 

_-goat to market-_

_-Oh, I'm scared-_

His head throbs as dozens of thoughts attempt to nest in his head, confusing his own thoughts, and they don't stop coming until he can't distinguish between them, _-So much blood- I'll come back another day, I- how do you-_ and his own thoughts- _She was- course.- did what?-_ He can't hear anything over the drowning static of the nonsense din, and he squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed. 

Digging his fingernails into his palm, he tries to control himself. This is no time for weakness, he needs to get away. He can't hurt like this in public. Needs something to focus on or he's going to lose himself here. 

_**What are they gathering around about? Is that a head?**_

He knows that voice. 

_**Oh fuck, that's Geralt.**_

Frantic and louder than the others, drawing him in to listen. It's rich, all warm concern, and he leans into it easily. 

Something is touching him. He flinches. 

As his eyes open against the bright light, there is Jaskier, lightly slapping at his cheeks. Geralt blinks, and Jaskier's voice is even clearer as he speaks aloud. 

"Geralt? Do you know where you are?" 

_**He's opening his eyes, thank fuck. Now I don't have to try and carry him. Poor thing, his hands are bleeding.**_

"Fought the warlock," he croaks as Jaskiers thoughts settle over the others like a blanket, dimming them enough that he can at least take in his surroundings. Jaskier has an easy voice to listen to. Geralt's hands are indeed bleeding where he clenched them tight, crescents stark red on his palms. 

A glance down confirms that the head is still in his lap, lying in a bloody puddle that stains his clothes. Townsfolk stand about, some still openly staring, others careful not to look at all. 

_**I wish these vultures would back off if they aren't going to help.**_

Jaskiers voice is loud and clear, easy to grasp amid the others- But his mouth does not move. 

Geralt runs a hand down his face in resignation. Nothing is ever easy. 

His eyes flicker across the small crowd of spectators whose thoughts still pound at his skull. 

_-might call the authorities if-_

_-why are they still just sitting there?-_

Jaskier is helping him up, talking brightly about the song he will make of this exploit, unaffected as ever by the gore as they make their exit. Nothing fazes Jaskier. 

Geralt can hardly bring himself to function over the garbled noise still crowding his overly sensitive ears, and allows Jaskier to take the lead. It will be better when they are alone. He's being pathetic, disoriented over simple noise, just as he always is in large crowds, but this time they're in his head and they don't stop thinking and thinking. At least Jaskier is taking him away, he thinks as the smell of death grows distant. 

He turns abruptly, remembering. "Need to get the rest of the body," he says, cringing at his too-loud voice. He can't just leave the corpse there, not when he could hear the horrified thoughts of the townspeople. 

_**Of course he wants to do that before getting medical attention,**_ thinks Jaskier. 

Jaskier purses his lips in a tight smile. "Later," he promises, chipper. "That must have been quite the scuffle." 

**_He's leaning heavily, I wonder if he's more hurt than I thought._**

Geralt shoves him off and stands on his own. He doesn't want to hear this. They're alone now, and with a clear head he is perfectly alright. He doesn't need… _coddling._

"M'fine," he grunts. "I'll get the pay and move the body. And then we're leaving this shithole." 

He walks away on his own two feet. Anything to get away from Jaskier, from _everyone,_ for a moment. Magic caused this, there must be a magical remedy. He just has to live with it for a short time, and once he finds whatever can cure it, he won't have to hear another thought that doesn't come from his own damn head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONT READ THE PROMPT IF YOU DONT WANT SPOILERS FOR THE FIC!
> 
> Prompt from Dumbledork-
> 
> One/both of them gets hit with a spell that lets Geralt hear Jaskier’s thoughts, or maybe everyone’s but he’s around Jaskier the most, so he mainly only hears his thoughts. And anyway he’s expecting to be bombarded by even more of Jaskier’s typical rambles and constantly have some new song stuck in his head, but instead/in addition he hears all kinds of self depreciating thoughts, like a constant inner monologue of more or less his thought process from this fic and the other one based on it, and is just like “no???? This isn’t okay???” And maybe at first there isn’t as much of that kind of stuff bc they’re in a town and a lot of Jaskier’s thoughts are stuck on “ooh pretty person, I love their hair, that one really needs a bath, I wonder- KITTEN!” And mostly normal stuff with maybe a couple “wow Geralt looks amazing in those pants, oh no he’s frowning is he okay, did I do something, did someone say something (I’ll fight them)” and stuff but then all the stuff he’s hearing causes Geralt to have Feelings and he ends up snapping at Jaskier on the way out of town or something and suddenly all he hears is all the self depreciation and “what if he leaves me!!!*panicking chaos* I better shut up, maybe he’ll be able to ignore me better” and as they walk and Jaskier is left in silence his thoughts keep getting worse bc spiraling and Geralt is just Very Alarmed and maybe doesn’t want to let Jaskier know he’s been cursed bc he doesn’t want him to freak out about the invasion of privacy or smth? Like maybe Jaskier had mentioned in the past that he has a Thing about mind reading or something? And just lots of angst. Also maybe at the beginning Geralt would be afraid to go back to wherever Jaskier is bc he had taken one of the potions that make him look weird and he doesn’t want to hear Jaskier be afraid/disgusted by him or something else angsty like that? (And you know Jaskier would definitely think it’s hot and maybe he’s been stiff/weird about interacting when he’s seen Geralt like that in the past bc he REALLY didn’t need to let his probably straight/not interested friend know about all his weird kinks, so Geralt is expecting him to have been hiding some kind of repulsion and is Shocked to return to “oh no he’s got”)


	2. Chapter 2

He's only had the ability for two hours, but already Geralt hates reading minds. He has never understood people, and has never wanted to. Not like this. 

As he returns from collecting his pay from a woman who would not stop thinking about her affair in great detail, he composes himself for a moment in the stables beside the inn. Horse thoughts are easier to live with than human thoughts, just as he has always suspected. 

He will need to avoid crowded spaces until he can find a counterspell. There are a few neighboring villages that may have magic users he can consult, if this one fails to turn up anything. 

And then there's the issue of Jaskier. 

He's fairly sure reading Jaskiers mind, at least, will be essentially like talking to him. After all, Jaskier constantly blurts out whatever comes into his head with no filter. It can't be too different. 

For his own sake he isn't sure he wants to hear the things Jaskier _does_ filter from his speech. Probably a lot of negative thoughts about Yennefer, stories of strange sexual encounters, opinions on socialites and the like. Geralt doesn't want to know. 

Regardless, he may not have a choice in the matter. If he leaves Jaskier here while he seeks a remedy, he may not get to see him again for months. Or, more likely, Jaskier would track him down and nag him until he explained why he left. He’s stubborn like that. 

When he's had his fill of sitting with the horses, Geralt heads inside the inn. He opens the door of he and Jaskiers shared room, where Jaskier has piled all their gear into one corner. 

Jaskier startles, thinking for a split second that it's an intruder. When he sees Geralt he smiles bright and waves him over. The soft way Jaskier thinks Geralt's name makes his knees go fractionally weaker. 

"Didn't see you come in! How are-" 

"What do you think about mind reading," Geralt cuts him off, and curses himself silently for the lack of subtlety. 

"Mind reading?" A little frown crosses his lips. "Hate it, I suppose. Hardly want someone rooting around in my head." 

_**This is about Yennefer of Vengerberg, somehow, that magic bitch. It's always about her.**_

"You? I was under the impression you had no filter. With a mouth that runs like yours, I fear to think what you hide," he teases. 

"If I have my way, my secrets will remain my own. Seriously Geralt, what’s this about?" 

_**Or maybe the warlock read his mind and stole some important Witchery secrets. But he's dead now, so it's not like it would matter. If someone knew my secrets, I would just die on the spot, especially if they told Geralt. Yennefer would do that just to bother me. Maybe I'd run away and start a new life, it's not like I haven't done it before.**_

He's probably being dramatic. Probably. Geralt won't bring it up again, just in case. He can't have Jaskier resenting him for this. It’s not as if Jaskier knowing would change anything or help the situation- It would still be just as invasive. 

Not to mention that telling him might make him go away until the issue is resolved, and Geralt selfishly wants him here. If there's another crowd he _needs_ Jaskier. 

He will find a cure on his own to reverse this before they leave, and Jaskier will never even have to know. 

  


Geralt knows this man is selling snake oil, and anything bought here will in all likelihood be useless. The seller is currently thinking about how best to scam potential customers, a sure sign of faulty products. 

But this is the only potion seller in town, and Geralt would rather try _something_ than try nothing, even if it's a longshot. Even though the moment the seller lays eyes on Geralt, he refuses him service. 

"...For the last time, no." 

Geralt grits his teeth. He just wants a tiny purple jar of labelled "curse remover." Just the one jar, and he's had to beg for five minutes. 

"I need it." 

"Please leave my stall." 

"I'll be out of your hair faster if you just-" he sighs, resigned. "I'll pay double." 

The prices are already obscene, but Geralt's head hurts, and he's ready for this affliction to go away. The man is turning the idea over in his mind, deciding it's worth it. Finally, he nods. 

Geralt passes over the coin. Their hands brush, and the seller flinches. 

_-Filthy._

These are the thoughts he can understand, they are familiar. He gets this from everyone. 

Or, nearly everyone. 

_-Why is he still standing here after I sold him the damn thing? Business is bad enough as it is without this shit driving off customers. Papa said Witchers were a vicious lot, guess I'd better just be grateful he isn't attacking me-_

Geralt can't bring himself to be offended at the thought. It's true, his presence damages people's businesses. And he's long known everyone hates him. 

Nearly everyone. 

His mind wanders as he lingers at the stall. He's managed to largely avoid Jaskier so far today, but it will be impossible once they're back on the road. He doesn't want to hear Jaskiers thoughts all the time if they ever sound like these, though its naive to think that they won't. 

Geralt has seen firsthand the looks of fear when Jaskier watches him fight. Heard Jaskiers rabbiting heart when Geralt enters his personal space. When his eyes are black, or when he thrashes in his sleep, or when one of his mutations makes itself known. As much as Jaskier proclaims Geralt a friend and hero, the truth of what he thinks shows on his face at times like those. But to hear the proof in Jaskiers thoughts and remove all doubt... that would be... 

He would not enjoy that very much. 

"There you are!" 

Jaskier bounds up with a grin, tapping Geralt on the shoulder and ducking around to the other side just to be irritating. Geralt tucks the potion away before Jaskier can ask about it. 

_**His cheeks do the darlingest thing when he's annoyed to see me. I could write a song for his cheeks alone. Wonder if he's eaten.**_

Jaskier produces two apples from his ridiculous, large pockets, handing one to Geralt while he bites into the other. Geralt coughs into his hand. Jaskier thinks his cheeks are darling? He touches his cheek, then drops his hand, feeling foolish. 

The seller's eyes flicker between the two of them. 

_-A bard, this must be the barker people talk about. So that's the White Wolf? I wonder what possessed this lad to throw in his lot with a Witcher. The way he eats that apple is a bit freakish._

Geralt has to concede that. Jaskier bites into the apple, closing his eyes with an obnoxious moan. No man should derive such inordinate pleasure from mere fruit. 

_**Geralt has hardly touched his apple, why do I even bother. Why is this other idiot staring at me, has he never seen a man enjoy an apple before?**_

"You getting something here?" Jaskier asks, mouth full. "Oh, they sell beeswax. I'll buy something myself," he hums in approval. 

"Actually, could you two… leave," the seller bites out, losing patience as they continue to loiter. 

"And why should two perfectly normal paying customers do _that,_ " Jaskiers voice turns icy. Geralt grunts at him in warning. 

"I don't sell to your _type._ " 

Geralt neglects to mention that he just did. It doesn't seem as if it would help the situation, since the man _has_ asked multiple times already. They should just go. 

_Don't kill me, don't kill me,_ thinks the seller, his thoughts aimed at Geralt, though he should likely be more concerned over Jaskier, standing just feet away clutching his apple while debating whether to engage in violent action. His thoughts are really horrifically violent. He has quite an imagination. 

Jaskier lays his hand gently on the table, taking a bite of apple. His mouth is full as he speaks. 

"You will apologize and sell me and my friend whatever we please, before I take my lute and shove-" 

"Jaskier," Geralt warns. Jaskier glances back and his face softens. 

_**Damn it. He's right, it'll only make more trouble for us if I actually hurt him.**_

Still, Jaskier snatches a potion from the table without paying. They make a hasty exit as the seller yells obscenities after them, and Jaskier nearly whirls around three separate times as Geralt steers him away. The seller will not pursue a fight. His thoughts drip with cowardice. Jaskier, as usual, is another story, but they make it out peacefully this time. 

When Jaskiers back is turned, Geralt drinks the little bottle of potion. Naturally, nothing happens, except that his purse is now lighter and his head hurts a little worse than before. 


	3. Chapter 3

Jaskier won't stop thinking. He thinks like he talks- in rambling speeches that jump from one topic to the next. Geralt finds himself begrudgingly endeared, even as he tries in vain to block out the thoughts and give Jaskier privacy. But it’s also a lot to take in, what with the thoughts of every animal in the vicinity also making a home Geralts brain. 

**_I wish he would turn around so I can scratch this stupid itch in my nose. why am I even worried about this, the man probably still has fleas; I have no reason to be self conscious._**

Geralt sits back and sifts through his hair self consciously. He hasnt had fleas since last month. 

_**Geralt’s pores are so small and I know he doesn't do a bit of skin care. Not even lotion. Nothing! Smooth as a babe, and here I am dragging him into a tub approximately once a fortnight. Here I am applying this damn petal water to my skin once a day like a fool to keep it soft, while his inhumanely tiny pores just exist because of… What is it, witchery powers? I hate him.**_

It stops for a blessed moment. Jaskier has been on about this for nearly a full hour. 

_**...No, I don't. I can't even think of it in jest, he's too darling for his own good and he doesnt get the love he should. Oh, that rhymes, I had better write that down.**_

Geralt's pores are not inhumanely tiny, they're normal. He huffs, frustrated. Leave it to Jaskier to make him question his fucking _pores_ of all things, something he has never in his life spared a thought for. Jaskier thinks constantly about trivial things like hygiene. Geralt has personally seen him walk around in a moth eaten, bloodstained doublet for days on end without washing, so he’s not sure where Jaskier gets off being judgemental over a little case of fleas. 

And Jaskier thought he was darling yet again, which is bizarre and uncalled for. He’s thought it seven times while they’ve been on the road, not that Geralt is counting. It would be silly to count. 

Jaskier is now thinking of some very raunchy lyrics that Geralt is grateful haven't made it into any songs. He thinks about Geralts ass a lot, which Geralt decides not to read into. Jaskier thinks about sex very frequently, idly speculating how his friends would be in bed, and strangers, and, most often, Geralt. Because Geralt is right there, so of course he thinks about him the most. 

It’s painfully awkward to hear Jaskier wax on about Geralts body when Geralt cant change the subject or tell him to be quiet. All of it is awkward. 

The animals are thinking about eating and nesting. Geralt understands that. Their thoughts are easy to follow, easy to ignore. Unlike some people. 

Jaskier scribbles in his notebook. 

"How would you feel about another song about ghosts? I was thinking something in G minor this time, with…" 

The thoughts just keep coming, and on top of that, Jaskier is rambling out loud, thoughts barely outpacing his words. It’s not his fault, but trying to follow both his speech and his thoughts at once is confusing and Geralt is afraid he's never going to find a cure for this thing, and it’s just- 

Geralt can't fucking stand it. 

"Jaskier," he snaps, bringing a hand to massage his aching temple, "I don't want to hear your fucking song right now, can you shut up for five minutes.” 

Jaskier smiles leisurely and salutes. "Loud and clear. Shutting up immediately." 

_**Sick of me already, and it’s only midmorning. I had better shut the fuck up, or he’s going to get really mad.**_

Geralt furrows his brow. He doesn’t get mad at Jaskier, not really. He snaps at him sometimes, but only because he needs the quiet. Jaskier knows it's not personal. That's why he's so accommodating about Geralts moods, and never takes them to heart. 

_**I don’t blame him, I am a bit much to be around. I don’t know how to make him like me. At this point it seems like it’s never going to happen.**_

To Geralt's growing alarm, the self deprecating tangent continues. He chances a glance at Jaskier, and his face is entirely impassive as he hums a cheery, absent tune under his breath. 

He's being normal. Too normal. If Geralt didn't know better, he would think Jaskier was in a perfectly fine mood. 

These can't be Jaskiers actual thoughts, hes always painfully easy to read., and he's always painfully upbeat. Geralt looks closer, searching for anything in his face that could indicate upset, but there's just... nothing. Either Geralt is hearing someone else's thoughts, somehow, or Jaskier is a fantastic actor. 

**_He's glaring at me. This is so typical. Maybe this will be the final straw and hell leave me in the next town._**

How can he think Geralt would do that, when they've travelled together for years? Surely he knows Geralt better than that. Though it seems he doesn't know Jaskier as well as he thought. 

He tries ignoring it, opening a bag of jerky to try and drown out the sound with his 9wn chewing. Geralt knows he is difficult to be around at the best of times, but he didn’t know his words bothered Jaskier this way. It doesn’t make sense that Jaskier would stick around if he genuinely believes any of what he’s thinking right now. 

Geralt doesn’t know how to apologize without Jaskier becoming suspicious. Which… sheds light on how careless he’s been with Jaskier without even realizing it. 

**_Oh,God, what do I do if he leaves me here._**

Finally, a spike of anxiety pierces the air, the first tangible evidence of Jaskiers increasingly frantic internal dialogue. 

Geralt does not like this. Jaskier wasnt supposed to think things like this, he was supposed to think about… flowers, and sex, and things like that, not about… 

_**I'm such a complete fuckup sometimes. This is the third time this week.**_

Geralt can only stare straight ahead as Jaskier continues, oblivious. 

“Here.” Geralt holds out the bag of jerky. "I don't want the rest." 

An apology and a peace offering, because the least he can do is apologize. Maybe that will make Jaskier calm down before he works himself up into a panic. He's done so before, but it always seemed sporadic, not like today's long buildup. Geralt shifts in discomfort. He might have caused some of those, too, without even knowing. 

Jaskier takes the bag, and the thoughts go calmer, though still self loathing, and they continue well down the road. 

Maybe he should suck it up and confess. But it would be the right thing to do. Jaskier wouldn't want him to know his thoughts and insecurities. 

He doesn't know how much longer he can listen to this. But he knows he's missed his window for telling. Jaskier would hate him for listening for so long and not saying anything. Jaskier would storm off and then he would be gone. 

Geralt says nothing, and they walk on.


	4. Chapter 4

Geralt does not know how to bring it up, and that is why he does not speak. 

The unfortunate side effect of this choice is that Jaskier does not ever stop bringing it up- in his head. 

Shame festers in Geralts gut. He should have known. But had he known, he would have likely done just what he’s doing now. Silence, which is somehow more difficult to overcome than anything in his line of work. 

Better. He has to be better. Jaskier apparently isnt satisfied, and needs much more than 

he’s giving. This will be a good thing, then; he can observe what makes Jaskier upset and take mental note, so he can do better in the future when this whole thing is quietly resolved. 

Jaskier is tired and cold. Geralt would never know it. 

**_Fuck, my feet are going to freeze off. Should I tell him to wait a moment?_**

_Ask, come on,_ Geralt silently urges. 

**_No, I can go another half hour, and then I’ll ask. I really will this time._**

Geralt sighs, because Jaskier has had this exact thought six times over, and every half hour has convinced himself out of it for fear that Geralt will be annoyed. 

“Are you cold?” he asks, point blank. 

“No. I’m quite alright.” 

_**Was that convincing? I must be shivering hard if he’s noticed.**_

Geralt wants to strangle him, or possibly himself. He reigns in his emotions and speaks calmly. 

“I am. We’re stopping.” 

“Look who’s endurant now! It’s me, not you, by the way.” 

_**Did that sound stupid? No, that was funny. I’m funny. Geralt didn’t laugh but when does he ever? He didn’t do the little smile thing either.**_

Any other time, Geralt would snarl at him dismissively, to try and regain silence. He can’t find it in himself to wish for that today. 

Jaskiers boasts about his endurance are undercut by the way he immediately whips out his bedroll and goes to sleep, not even waiting for dinner to be ready. Geralt cooks anyway, and shakes him awake, offering a bowl of broth and meat. 

“Thanks,” Jaskier rasps, sitting up to drink from the bowl, his warm body pressed against Geralt to knock their shoulders together. He looks soft in the dark, edges blurring into the air. 

Geralt clears his throat. “Thank you.” 

“For what? I’ve been sleeping like a loaf,” he mumbles, setting aside the bowl and settling back into his bedroll. 

“Traveling with me. I know I don’t say it often enough.” 

Jaskier blinks sleepily, and Geralt almost thinks he hadn’t heard him speak. 

_**I don’t understand Geralt at all. One minute I think I do, but sometimes he looks at me like that and says something like that and I don’t know. It makes me wonder if he could love me back one day.**_

Geralt keeps his face carefully blank. _love him back…_ Jaskier couldn’t possibly.. Could he? It would align with his behavior if Geralt were literally anyone else, but he’s _himself._ An infatuation, then. Jaskier is prone to those and gets over them quickly enough. Still, it’s flattering. Sweet, if misguided. 

Jaskier eyes flick to his lips. _ **Kiss,**_ he thinks, and closes his eyes, falling immediately into sleep. 

Geralt doesn’t sleep for a long while. It feels like he should stay awake, stand guard tonight over Jaskier, who seems suddenly so fragile. Jaskier shifts in his sleep and his hand comes to rest on Geralts calf, and an upwelling of affection hits him all at once as he gazes at his precious charge. Someone who buys him apples and walks long roads for him and thinks of kissing his lips as he falls asleep. He will not let anyone hurt Jaskier, not even himself, not anymore. 

He places his hand atop Jaskiers and makes a silent vow.


End file.
